


The Legend of Ruined-Tail

by Structure_Spice666



Series: Squeeper Chronicles [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Adventure, Burglary, Death, Elder Scrolls - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Robin Hood like character, Thief, oblivion, vaults
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Structure_Spice666/pseuds/Structure_Spice666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Join Squeeper, a noble born elf, the thief on his journey of friendship, adventure, and burglary . Squeeper, a young(ish) elf has a dream or Robbing every vault in Cyrodiil. His plans are warped when he has to accommodate for his new friend, and the assassins chasing him. Rated T just in case. Disclaimer: I Own Nothing</p><p>Until further notice, the Squeeper Chronicles is hereby shut down. No new chapters will be posted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge

Squeeper Chronicles: The Legend of Ruined-Tail

  
By: Structure

  
**Prologue**   


* * *

 

When I was born, No one had any idea what I was going to do. I was born an elf to a noble family. My preferred name is Squeeper, which seems to contradict nobility. But one day I had found a rat in my room. In a failed attempt to mimic the rat I said "Squeep."  
My mother, to shorten the story, called me a Squeeper in adoration.

I kept the name almost my entire life. The better years of my youth were spent being taught finer points of nobility; how to speak eloquently, how to calculate in arithmetical circumstances, how to read and write, etcetera. My parents, however, were unlike most nobles, who plotted and schemed against each other. My parents believed that wealth was to be shared with the less fortunate. They instilled those values into myself. My childhood lasted a good proportion in relative happiness.

Until one dismal day when my parents met with an unfortunate accident. No one knew what happened, but I heard rumors that the other nobles were jealous over the attention garnered by my parents, and that they conspired for them to meet death that day. There may have been truth to the rumor because shortly after the incident the nobles squabbled over my parents possessions, as well as my own, and I was sent out to live on the streets.

The first few days I wandering around begging for food. On some occasions I was lucky, and on others, not so much. In a short span of time I was found and taken in by the local thieves guild. They saw the potential of a noble-born amongst their guild. They taught me the valued tools of their trade; the fine art of stealth, the thrill of stealing, the challenge of picking pockets, the marksmanship of archery, the skill of sword play, the magics of alchemy. My wit and charm went along nicely with those skills. It was whispered among the guild that with enough training and practice, I might one day rise up to be a master thief. I loved the trade, but I found out that I was different than the others in many ways. I found that they cared for nothing else but gold, as such the had no passion. I loved being a thief for the thrill, the challenge, the feeling I got whenever I completed a heist. Bus as for the gold, while I did enjoy the feel of fine clothes, and the cleanliness of fine establishments, I never kept it too long, nor gave too much to the guild. But many a homeless elf would find piles of gold next to their shoddy bunks in the morning, courtesy of yours truly. I became a, sort-of- hometown hero to the poor populace. I never stole from anyone who couldn't afford it, and gave all if not more to the poor. The guild didn't like that, as they wanted more gold for themselves. I could not reconcile these differences, so I quit the guild. The guild didn't like that someone they had taken in had betrayed them, as they saw it. So with a quick pouch of gold to the right hands in the city guard, I quickly became a hunted criminal. I was no longer welcome in the land.

So, with nothing but the clothes on his back, and one small dagger, I stowed away on a ship bound to a land I had never been to, but had always heard about. This is where the adventure truly begins, in a land called Cyrodiil

My name is Anthropolis Lightfoot, and this is Ruined-Tail's story.


	2. A Fresh Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, I know, but my keyboard isn't exactly working properly so I have to make do with what I have.

**Chapter 1: A Fresh Start**

 

* * *

A creaking woke me from my slumber. I recognized it as the heavy weight of someone walking. As I gazed around I realized that there was no place to hide, nor were there any region of the corridor dark enough to conceal myself. I would just have to face whomever it was. As I rose from the hard wood floor I rested on. The figure whom the creaking belonged to entered into the corridor through the tiny doorway. The man was a head taller than I, who is considered short even among other Wood Elves. He wore a heavy chain and steel armor set. He glared at me with piercing, yet worried, hazel eyes. He shakily drew his sword and in a crackling voice spoke nervously "W-Who are you" He ran his eyes over me as if searching for a weapon.

I gave a smile and removed my dagger from it's sheath under my black cuirass and tossed it to the floor. "I mean no harm. I'm just a stowaway." I reassured, "I'm an unfortunate victim of betrayal an a framing. I was, for lack of a better word, exiled from my home. I had to choose between death and stowing away on a ship bound who knows where" I spoke truthfully in an attempt to get off the hook.

The Nord, a guard I supposed, ran a hand through his blond hair thinking over the situation. There were two options; Turn me in as a stowaway, and I get thrown off the ship, where I would surely die; or let me stay to act as a passenger, though I would not be welcome on the ship again.

"Very well," the young Nord sighed, "You can stay in my cabin. You are not to leave unless I say so. Follow me" I shuffled along barely hearing a word as he talked about the four ports the ship would be going. I couldn't care less at the moment. I was too tired. I zoned in and out hearing snippets of his one sided conversion like "...Imperial city has six districts, which are the..." "...carrying a combination of cargo and passengers..." When the time came that we arrived I had a bunch of papers shoved into my hands. I hadn't even noticed that we made a short stop along the way. "What's this?" I yawned.

"Haven't you been listening?" He sighed before answering my question anyways, "It's the parchments you need to fill out." When I gave no answer he glared at me, "It's what will grant you access to Cyrodiil"

I gave a short courteous nod before entering the room. I placed the parchment on the table an began to fill out what I could. The questions seemed simple and easy to answer. I filled in my name and wrote Bosmer next to Race. Under birth sign, I entered The Shadow. I thought about my birth sign, and for the first time, and realized how fitting it was. It granted me the ability to become invisible a period of time per day, and it seemed perfect for me, as a thief. The final part to fill out was status. I wrote poor and left it there. The man should pick it up later. For now I needed sleep.

  
-squeeper-squeeper-squeeper-squeeper-squeeper-squeeper-

  
I walked out of the Inn I had made my home the past few days, an headed in the direction of my former home taken from me long ago. I stopped short when I heard the yell of a guard. When I turned there was a group of them heading my way, swords drawn. I eyed the swords, making a decision that I did not want to be on the receiving end of those blades. I didn't know exactly why they were after me, but I had a guess. The Thieves Guild. I did the only thing I could. I ran. "Don't let him get away!" they shouted somewhere behind me. I knocked over barrels, ducked through crowds of people, anything I could do to get away, I did. The docks began to spread out in front of me so I did the only thing I could do... I dove in the water and began swimming to a boat I was sure would leave soon. I climbed up the makeshift ladder at the side of the boat and made my way up. By the time the guards would be organized enough to search boats, I would be long gone.

  
-squeeper-squeeper-squeeper-squeeper-squeeper-squeeper-

I sat up in the bed, drenched in sweat. The dream had been so vivid. So real. And this was the third time the dream had reoccurred. Would that day forever haunt me? Or would it stop when I fulfilled my dream? Would my exile have been forgotten by then? They were the questions that I might never have an answer for. But for the moment we had arrived in the Imperial City, an I did not wand to stay in this ship any further

As I stepped off the ship I relished in the cool breeze and stepped forward on the stone bridge to a new start in Cyrodiil


	3. Journal Entry #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting in a while. New chapters for both Blackrock and this should be up soon. Thanks for being Patient

First Entry

I have to start a new journal since I was forced to leave my old one with all of my other personal possessions when I fled my homeland. My parents always told me that we must learn from our past but that we cannot do that if we do not know ourselves first.  
To this end, I have always kept a journal containing my past events as well as my reflections upon them. The hope is that this journal with one day help me understand who I am and how I got to where ever I am when I read this.  
It saddens me greatly that all of my passages from my home land are now lost forever. I feel as though I have lost a piece of myself. Still, I can take comfort in the fact that I still have my freedom and the chance to start this journal anew.  
So, where to start? I suppose it would be best to consider the events that led to me writing in the bowels of this leaky boat. It was supposed to be a simple job. Get in and get out. The second I picked the loc on the door, however I found the store filled with city guards waiting for me.  
I have no evidence, but it must have been the thieves’ guild. Who else could have tracked me so easily? I will never understand their animosity towards me.  
Yes, they trained me and invested in me, but I have returned that investment many times over. Why should it anger them so much that my Ill gotten gains fell into the hands of people in need instead of theirs?  
They already had more gold than most noble houses. What possible use could they have for it? Sometimes I wonder if any of them harbor a passion for the arts of the shadow, or if gold is all they can see anymore. Surely, many of them must have started off with the same ambition and joy I have, but what happened?  
Perhaps gold is a sickness, perhaps the more you obtain, the more it eats away your emotions until all that is left is greed. It is possible that the fact that I never keep gold for very long has spared me this plague. For that, I am grateful  
And yet, my health (as it were) is the very thing that drove the thieves’ guild to hunt me. I believe it was not the loss of gold, or my quitting the guild that angered them so, but the fact that I was what they always should have bee. I think it was shame, not anger, which led them to bribe the guards for my capture.  
It doesn’t matter anymore. They have succeeded, though not in the way they had hoped. I have left my home land, and I have no intention of going back.  
In front of me lies a new path filled with adventure. We shall see what awaits me in Cyrodil. After all, I have always felt it is better to open your arms wide to the future than to stretch them back longingly for the past. 

And maybe then I can get a decent meal!


	4. Boxman

Starvation clawing at my stomach, Squeeper sat crouched in front of a stack of boxes near the rear of the ship he’d arrived on. He glanced around making sure no one was in the area, and then pried off the lid of a box. The only thing inside he saw that might be useful was an unlit torch. He removed it from the crate and placed it in a large, enchanted backpack he picked up on the ship. Inside another box he grimaced at the sight of linen pants that were very coarse from the years. He wasn’t that desperate, but he grabbed them just in case he couldn’t find anything better. If he had to choose between armor and the linens, he’d choose the latter. Finally, in the first barrel, he found what he needed. Food. It wasn’t much, and not what he was used to, but it was better than nothing. He grabbed the food, rat meat, along with the other things in the barrel, Arrow root and tobacco. He could sell those to an apothecary.  
In another barrel, he found much of the same thing, but instead of tobacco he found grain wheat. And in the final barrel, buried in a pile of dirt, rocks and sand, was Rice and Alkanet flower. Rice was at least better than the rat meat. Once he’d acquired all that he could, he nearly ingested the rat meat, thankful it was cooked, as well as the rice and wheat.

A little bit more full he decided to search around more to find things to sell. As much as he might still be hungry, he was not going to sleep outside. In his pilfering, he came across a small chest. In his excitement he opened the chest expecting there to be a bit of gold, or something mildly valuable. To his disappointment it was only a pair of shoes. ‘Who keeps shoes in a chest?’ He thought to himself. In his desperation he found himself searching through the remains of people in caskets. He stopped himself before he could dishonor the dead. As soon as he had rummaged through a barrel he heard the sound of a kid yelling out “Hey, Mister!” He looked around and notice the boy heading towards him, “Hey, Mister!” The kid was the usual height for what he guessed was a ten year old, give or take a year. His hair was short, and he was wearing a brown shirt, that looked a little bit rough.

As soon as the kid was in front of him, he began to speak “Hey, wait up! I need to talk to you!” ‘Okay’ He thought to himself. Had the kid seen him steal? What was he talking to him for? “What is it, kiddo?” Squeeper asked in a kidding tone. “I have a letter for you.” The kid spoke. A Letter? He thought to himself “How is that even possible? I just got here. Who sent you?” The kid gave Squeeper a mysterious look “I’m not supposed to say. Do you want the letter or not?” 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll take the letter” I reach out so the boy could give me the letter, but the boy gave me a steely look “Aren’t you forgetting something?” “If I had septims, I would spare some.” I spoke in an apologetic tone. The kid handed me the letter, and while I was looking to see if there was a name, the kid reached into my pocket before running off. “Hey, he picked my pocket” I yelled after him “For what. For the lint? Are you pleased with the amount of lint you found in my pocket? You can keep it. No, no. Don’t worry about returning it, I don’t even want it.” The weird looks I got from everyone was worth the amusement. Chuckling to myself I opened the letter and read the contents.

 

I’ve been watching you, taffer. And that has not been an easy task. For you wear the shadows well. You seem to possess a natural affinity for the art of stealth. Such talent should not be wasted. Allow me, then, to introduce myself and to offer an invitation to greater things.

I am, above all else, a businessman. I’ve done business under many names. But most simply call me Boxman. It’s a name I rather fancy. For it describes my occupation perfectly. I deal in the marketplace which everyone knows exist but which none will acknowledge. The secret avarice of men’s hearts for wealth and wonders. All manner of goods pass through my shop. All of them packed in neat little boxes. I am merely the facilitator – I care nothing for the contents of those boxes. Nor from whence they came or to whom they are supplied, as long as the customer can pay the price.

It is a life which has rewarded me well. However, my customers have many unusual requests. The goods they covet are often not readily available for purchase, and must be liberated from their possessors before the transaction can take place. In order to satisfy such requests, I find it useful to employ a handful of trusted experts of “acquisition” who possess precisely the skills I’ve witnessed in you

My proposal is simple: you and I will enter into a partnership, in which I employ your skills to acquire merchandise for my customers. In exchange, I am willing to provide you with certain tools which will assist you in circumventing the obstacles which stand in the way of commerce. Of course, you will be compensated monetarily for your services as well, but I suspect the greater reward for you will be the opportunity to truly exercise your talents, and in doing so become the finest thief this city has ever seen.

The decision is yours to make. Should you choose to accept my proposal, meet me in the underground market. I trust you can find the way

Regards,  
Basso

 

Squeeper was intrigued by this letter. It seemed to agree with everything he stood for, and it was a great opportunity to continue doing the work he loves, without having to completely start over. “Boxman, I will find the way” He spoke aloud to himself. Squeeper deigned to do that later, for now he needed to acquire more food, and things of monetary value. As he was searching he some clothes that he decided to change into, instead of wearing the armor. He walked to the side of a nearby building where he could change in peace. He put on a decent looking shirt that was a nice dark green, which was darker towards the collarbones. He brushed his hair out of his eyes so he could see what he was doing and promptly changed into the leather pants. ‘Much better’ he thought to himself. He started wandering about heading towards an entrance to the actual city, wondering if he should get a move on.

Figuring, he could get an idea what the city’s like by talking to the people he walked up to a youngish man in his late twenties, with medium length brown hair, and a green tunic with a silver inlay. “Good,” he said before saying “Anything going on lately?” The man looked slightly worried before replying “That Gray Fox sounds like a dangerous thief, don’t you think?” Squeeper thanked the man then walked a little further muttering to himself “Really, the Gray Fox, huh? I don’t mind competition, I suppose.” Squeeper pulled open the one of the doors, which apparently led to the Waterfront Tunnel, as told by the sign in the arch above the door, and stepped through, wondering what would await him in this new city, this new land.


	5. Shops and Loot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not much, but that bit wasn't as interesting already. Also, it was a bit late when I wrote this, so I had no Ideas for anything to put in it. Eventually it'll be a more unique(yet still cannon) story, but for now, the openings are always boring- Structure

Squeeper stepped through the door to the Emporium of Waterfront Traders. He had been in the Imperial City for about a minute when he’d received that letter. He didn’t quite want to go there yet, while he was empty handed, as it would be best to enter this business proposition with something other than Alchemical ingredients, and absolutely no Septims.

He was greeted by a green ogre, with matted hair that fell down to nearly his shoulders. His ears were pointed outwards, and he looked like he was punched in the nose one too many times. The Ogre regarded him with an abrupt “What.” Squeeper, finding this a good time to ask questions asked “Who’s the Gray Fox?”

“Blasted thief,” He said angrily, “I hope they string him up when they catch him. He’s a slippery one though. The beggars are his eyes and ears.”

“Okay” Squeeper spoke astonished at what the ogre had said. “What do you sell?”

“Only quality goods here” The ogre, who promptly introduced himself as Morden gro-Darog, spoke, before showing him what he had via parchment.

Squeeper took a look at the list before denying buying anything, as he had no money. Squeeper spent the next few minutes chatting with Morden before saying “Oh, before I forget I had some things I need to sell.”

Selling the spare clothing, and ingredients, Squeeper took the gold from Morden’s outstretched hand “Thanks.” Squeeper spoke.

Before walking away he could hear Morden saying “Thanks for your business.”

Squeeper walked around the area searching for anything that he could loot without anyone noticing, but the only thing he could find was a locked door. Since he had no lock picks he just left the store, wondering if you should just go to the Boxman now.

As he walked down the waterfront tunnel he saw the closed gates of a shop, and the parchment of a notice:

This Market tunnel alcove is   
currently available for rent.

Please visit the Office of Imperial   
Commerce in the Market District to   
fill out the necessary application   
paperwork

V. Melissacia

 

Wondering if there were any other shops, open shops, along the tunnel he dawned a quicker pace. He passed a couple other closed shops and the lone person before coming across an open shop. A man stood in front of the counter facing a shelf, before turning around. Squeeper, upon further examination, felt his stomach growl at the sight of freshly baked bread, rolls, and more. 

While the man wasn’t looking he stole as much as he could before nonchalantly walking pasting the guy who spoke aloud “Greetings to you.” Squeeper walked away as fast as his legs could carry him and, when out of sight began eating as much as he could fit in his stomach. Finally full, he continued on his way, a spring in his step.

At the next shop, irrefutable thirst fell upon him when seeing that it was full of drinks, sheep’s milk and more. Unable to see any way he could steal from the shop, he walked up to the shop keep, who looked at him suspiciously “What do you want? Make it quick.”

He forgot about the drink as he tried chatting her up, so the woman didn’t hate him. But eventually his mind was brought back on track and bought and drank some sweet brewed tea.

At the next shop when he attempted to walk inside, the shop gate rose up, marking that it was closed. Knowing that it was only the afternoon, Squeeper wondered why it was closed, and came to the conclusion that the guy was closed for lunch.

At the next alcoves, he found a clothing shop, and an empty area with chairs, tables, and a weapon rack. Squeeper, figuring that it would be best to carry a sword instead of a small dagger, took one of the swords before moving on towards the market district.


	6. Basso's Business

         The first thing Squeeper learned when entering the market district, was how friendly the town could be. No sooner than he had entered, a heavily built guard called out “How are you?” Squeeper looked at the guard trying not to convey his nervousness “I’m okay.” The guard gave a short nod, his short blond hair barely moving, as if it had been flattened under a helmet many times before.  
Squeeper noticed a small wooden cart, held suspended in the air by moderate weights. The cart held luscious red apples ripe for the taking. Squeeper made his way to the cart slowly, before quickly remembering the guard and, regretting it, made his way past the cart. Next to the cart, was a stout wooden barrel, which Squeeper decided to promptly let alone.  
Slightly ahead in a narrow alley, a sign hung over a door that read ‘The Main Ingredient’. Guessing at an alchemy shop, he pushed on past another guard, which he was wary of, and several other people. Squeeper had never liked guards because of his trade, and tried to minimize his interactions with them. He made his way into a large area with a grand, white, spiraling staircase that led to an upper patio containing, what he guessed was, more shops.  
        Making his way past a Merchant’s Inn he opened an Iron Gate, entering into a lesser traveled area. Figuring that the Boxman’s shop would be in some part of the sewers underneath, he climbed into the first grate he saw.  
The sewer, gritty, grimy, and disgusting, held no interest to Squeeper, but he had to search for the shop. Broken barrels lined the other end of the sewer, lower down. Squeeper made his way down thin, slimy, stairs, trying to keep his footing as he did. “Why? Why does it have to be down here? I hate sewers!” Squeeper muttered to himself, “They’re just so… belch.” He immediately made his way down the only tunnel he saw, and saw an unusual transformation.  
       As soon as he rounded the curve the stone slabs turned to stone bricks. A warm fire, protected by a stone fireplace, fought of the cold dampness of the sewers. A red velvet couch sat beneath a painting next to the fireplace. A golden bordered red tapestry hung against the left wall to the immediate right of a small bookshelf. To the right of the entrance was an alcove with a table in front of a man, standing there, watching Squeeper take in the sights. To the sight of the alcove was a ladder leading up to an elevated section on top of the alcove. A table sat to the left of the alcove. “Wow. This place is nice and clean.” Squeeper couldn’t help, but say. The man gave a laugh, but let him continue on.  
      Once I was done exploring, I made my way to the table, which I realized contained many different tools of the trade. Arrows of varying uses, lock picks, and much, much more. “Basso the Boxman, at your service. I see you’ve decided to accept my proposal. But then, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.” The man spoke in a confident, yet rough, voice.  
      “I haven’t agreed to anything yet” Squeeper said, unsure of the decision of working for Basso. He wanted to explore all options, though.  
      “You’re here, aren’t you? At least have a look at my wares. I assure, you won’t be disappointed”  
      “You said you would employ my skills. What would you have me do?”  
      Basso gave a laugh before speaking “Treasures abound within the dungeons of Cyrodiil. From time to time, I receive a tip about the location of a particularly valuable trove. Your job is to liberate the goods from their owners and deliver them to me. But remember, taffer: I don’t deal in blood. When you’re on one of my jobs, I expect the utmost discretion. Kill so much as a rat, and the deal is off”  
These words held with Squeeper well. He didn’t like to kill people who don’t deserve it. He understood that city guards are only doing their job, and that they could have a family they need to feed.  
Squeeper browsed the shop, before settling on something he could afford, and that he desperately needed. He placed six septims in Basso’s hand before pocketing a single lockpick. Making conversation as he did, he asked “Any jobs?”  
      “I’ve got nothing for you at the moment. I’ll contact you as soon as I get a tip.”  
      Giving a quick nod, Squeeper made like he was going to round the corner and waited for Basso to turn around. When he did, Squeeper stole what he could, before leaving. Basso seemed like he had enough customers with how well the shop looked. He wouldn’t piece two and two together.


	7. Rewrite in Progress

So, it's been a long while since I've done anything of note, and yet I feel like getting back into it. And as it's been quite a bit of time, and I'm going to be rewriting the Damien Thorne story soon (I wouldn't expect to see any chapters of that immediately. It may be a few months before I'm confident in putting any chapters out on that), I figured that it may be a good idea to test my writing ability, as well as to see where I have grown as a writer, but rewriting another story of old. (Blackrock may or may not get continued, that depends on if I feel I have improved enough on this story.) Immediately after this chapter is updated, the first chapter of the Squeeper Chronicles rewrite will be up. I know I don't have a track record with stories, however life has been keeping me busy, and will probably keep me busy for a while. Have no fear though, if I cannot handle once a week, I will do bi-weekly updates.(In this case once every other week)

Thank you for your patience, and hopefully you enjoy this 'rewrite'


End file.
